Asylum
by Twinings
Summary: Arkham Asylum: the place where everyone needs a hug.
1. Oh, what now?

Disclaimer: If I owned the Riddler, I'd give him a hug. But I don't own the Riddler, or anyone else in this story except the very nice doctor, and I'm not even completely sure I own her.

This is for Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale, who made me realize that Eddums doesn't just need to get laid, he needs a _hug_. (But in this story there is no Hush, and for once no one is severely injured! Yay!)

Asylum

Arkham Asylum was no place for a doctor with a nervous disposition. In her first ten minutes there, Allison Chen had been giggled at by the Joker, leered at by Two-Face, swept off her feet by the Mad Hatter, startled by the Scarecrow as she came around a corner…

"I'm terribly sorry about that," Dr. Bartholomew said as they walked down the hall. Allison looked back to see a couple of guards subduing Crane, the Scarecrow, with a little more force than she would have thought necessary. "This sort of thing happens every time we get a new doctor. All the patients have to test him—or her—out, to see just how much they can get away with. Next comes therapy, when they put what they've learned to good use. It happens every time. I'll understand if you'd rather not…"

"Not take the job?" Allison said blankly. "This is my dream. I became a psychiatrist because I've always been fascinated by cases like these. The Riddler, in particular. I've studied him intensively—I think I can really do him some good. There's no way I'm leaving before I at least get a chance to meet him."

Bartholomew smiles.

"Welcome aboard then, Dr. Chen. We'll get you settled as quickly as possible."

--

Edward Nygma, also known as the Riddler, sat sprawled across a lumpy leather chair in the patients' lounge, working on a crossword puzzle and listening with half an ear to his companions' conversation.

"What a lovely child," the Mad Hatter said dreamily.

"Not your usual type, is she, Jervums? Although I guess she's not bad, if you're into sweet and sour," the Joker said with a giggle.

"That is enough, said his father; don't give yourself airs! Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!"

Eddie looked up, anticipating the need to duck, but the Joker didn't seem offended. Eddie went back to his puzzle.

"You know, her name is Allison, not Alice," Poison Ivy said, taking her eyes off her nature show for just a moment.

"I heard Professor Crane got in trouble for making her scream," Harley Quinn said from her position in the Joker's lap.

"A few days in solitary. He'll be fine."

"Aw," Harley said. Eddie smirked. That woman had soft spots for all the wrong people.

"All right, you lot, on your feet. Time to go back to your cells." Eddie glanced up to see a few guards in the doorway.

"Hey! You can't cut our rec time short," Harley protested.

"Tell it to your lawyer." The guard grabbed Harley by the arm and jerked her to her feet. Eddie saw the subtle change in the Joker's grin and mentally crossed the guy's name off the "alive" list.

He closed his book and stood up.

"Not you, Nygma. You stay put."

As one, the other inmates turned murderous gazes on Eddie. He cringed.

_Oh, what now?_

"There's no need to be so rough," said a female voice from the hall. One of the guards answered her with a grumble.

He watched the others file out of the room, feeling just slightly curious about the new doctor, since it seemed he was the only one who hadn't seen her yet.

He arranged himself in an artfully lazy position and went back to his crossword puzzle.

"It's all right. You can leave us. I'll call if I need any help." Her voice was low and rough. She sounded like a smoker, but he didn't smell cigarettes on her when she came near. "How's the puzzle coming?" she asked from behind him.

"Swimmingly, of course." He didn't turn to look at her. "You're in my light."

"Sixty-nine down is 'espresso,'" she said helpfully.

Now he turned to look at her.

Slightly disappointing. She wasn't very pretty, although she did have rather striking features that could have been played up, if she had cared. Joker might have been able to appeal to her vestigial sense of feminine vanity, but Eddie wasn't even talented enough to manipulate a normal woman that way. A look at her shoes told him that she was more sensible than Harley, anyway. She was smiling, friendly, but not likely to be much help in an escape attempt. He couldn't use her, so he decided to ignore her.

"You're not very impressed with me, Mr. Nygma," she said when he turned back to his puzzle. "That's all right. You don't know me yet. I'm very impressed with you. I studied you extensively in college, which is why I've been assigned to you for my trial period here at Arkham. I'm going to enjoy being your personal therapist. You and I are going to get to know each other very well. Flattery."

"What?"

"Thirty-seven across. Flattery."

"You like crossword puzzles, Dr. Chen?"

"I love them. I've always been good at word games."

"Hmm."

Interesting. Maybe the woman wasn't wholly insipid. Sessions with her could be fun, although they certainly wouldn't be any more productive than with any of the other doctors.

--

Eddie lay, sleepless, on the bottom bunk, still contemplating his new doctor. She had stayed with him for the rest of his recreation period, doing crossword puzzles. She was good—no match for him, of course, but still not bad.

Odd, really, that they had assigned the new doctor to just one patient, even one as interesting as him. There had been quite a spate of budget cuts recently, reducing the size of the staff, decreasing the quality of the food, squeezing the less "dangerous" inmates into room together. That part wasn't too bad. The roommate they had assigned him was probably the second most intelligent man in Arkham, and he was certainly quiet enough. If Eddie hadn't known that he was in solitary, he would have sworn Crane was up there on the top bunk with his nose in a book.

Yes, it could have been worse. But it could have been better.

The best day in Arkham was never as good as the worst day outside.


	2. That's not funny!

Morning came, and Eddie woke, still tired. He was always tired in Arkham. He only seemed to really wake up when he was working on a really clever puzzle, and there was nothing truly challenging to be done here.

Showering was always an interesting puzzle, though. There was something about being naked in a room with twenty other men, most of them bigger than he was, that tended to make a guy jumpy.

Fortunately for Eddie, they were still focused on the new guy.

"No! Please! That's not funny! It's not _funny_!" The cries came from the other side of the room, too far for Eddie to see. He looked anyway, and quickly averted his eyes from the sight of the Joker, flouncing toward him without so much as a towel on, his body eerily thin and pale under the harsh fluorescent lights. The man moved like Tim Curry in a corset.

"That poor sap has no sense of humor," the Joker said in a voice like rancid ice cream. Eddie kept his eyes glued to the wall, saying nothing. He could feel the clown standing just behind him, sharing his water. Creepy. Creepy. Creepy, creepy, creepy. "I notice you never join in the fun, Eddikins. I wonder why that is." Eddie tensed when he felt a long-fingered hand on his back. "You know, the other boys are beginning to talk."

"All right, break it up," came the belated voice of a guard. "Meal time."

The Joker squealed.

"Ooh! Pancakes!"

The presence withdrew. Eddie sagged with relief. This was worse than high school.

Although, in high school, he hadn't had any friends to watch his back. At least here there were a few people he could occasionally trust. Occasionally. Of course, most of those people were currently out working in the real world, so until Crane got out of solitary, he was on his own.

In the cafeteria, once again, he was reminded of high school. It wasn't just the food, which resembled pancakes only in the vaguest sense. His popularity had dropped sharply since the incident in the patients' lounge. Just like in high school, he was left to find a table to himself.

That lasted all of ten seconds. Eddie flinched when he heard the sound of a coin flipping in the air behind him. It clattered down on his tray, scarred side up.

"Move," Two-Face growled.

Eddie moved. You just didn't argue with a heads-down silver dollar.

Two-Face's boys didn't offer to let him take his tray when he left. That was no devastating loss, but he would be hungry by lunchtime. Oh, well. He wandered over to sit by the Mad Hatter, who wasn't too likely to fork him, and wasn't really big enough to chase him off.

"Would you like some tea?" Tetch asked solicitously.

"There is no tea here. There never was, and there never will be. You know they think the entire universe would implode if they gave us caffeine." The Hatter shrugged indifferently and offered one of his pancakes. Surprised, Eddie took it. "Uh—thanks."

It could have been made of pencil erasers and chalk, but it was just barely edible. It was something, anyway.

"They're all quite cross with you," Tetch said, offhand. "They want your head."

"It wasn't my fault. The new doctor is mental. I'll ask her not to do it again, and eventually, this will all blow over." Tetch laughed, believing in Eddie's chances for a clean getaway about as much as Eddie did.

Yeah…there was nothing else to do in Arkham but plot revenge. They wouldn't forgive or forget. Except for those like the Mad Hatter, who only seemed to be visiting Arkham while the workmen put down new floors in Wonderland.


	3. You've got great hair

Therapy had always been just one more dull event in a series of dull events that were hardly worthy of the name, a long like of unbroken monotony stretching from horizon to horizon.

So he sprawled across Dr. Chen's armchair, acknowledging at least that it was more comfortable than his bed, expecting nothing.

"Did you ever read _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_?" Dr. Chen asked without preamble.

"No…I never got around to those."

"Oh, now that is a shame. You remind me of Zaphod Beeblebrox. You're the kind of guy who always knows which is the most nonchalant chair to be discovered in." Self-consciously, he sat up straighter. "That's not criticism. I like the way you flop when other people would sit up and take notice. It's your way of remaining emotionally distant. You establish your intellectual superiority by making serious situations seem unimportant to you. Like you're turning life into a game, am I right?"

"Not a game. A puzzle," he admitted.

"Oh, of course. Have you solved it yet?"

"Solved it?"

"The Great Puzzle. Do you have your answer?" He hesitated. This sounded like a trick question. "You don't have to tell me. I think we all have different answers, because we all have different questions. My personal question, for example, is, 'What's the point of living when you know your time is finite and your life could end at any time?' My answer: never let any opportunity pass you by." Suddenly, she was straddling him, pinning his arms to the chair. "You never know when you'll get another chance."

"Dr. Chen? This is very unprofessional."

"Call me Allison." She kissed him.

"Urm!"

"I've wanted to do that to you since I was sixteen years old." She smelled like mint and vanilla.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely stumped for the first time in years.

"You're clever, you're exciting, and you're really very handsome." She nuzzled her cheek with her nose. "You've got great hair."

"Um…" This would have been the time for him to say something particularly clever, but he had never been in a situation like this before. "Um" was about the best he could come up with.

"I want to make it clear to you exactly what I want, Eddie. I want to make hot, passionate love to you, right here, right now, with the guards on the other side of the door just begging for an excuse to burst in on us."

"That seems a little extreme, doctor."

"Don't call me doctor. I don't care about your rehabilitation. I want the Riddler. And I want him now."

--

Eddie lay awake most of that night, contemplating his new doctor.

The monotony had officially been broken. Shattered. Destroyed.


	4. More feeling More soul

Next morning, on the way to the showers, Eddie found that his overworked muscles had stiffened, leaving his entire body sore. He tried not to limp. That worked about as well as putting on Groucho glasses and doing the Charleston. Like a predator sensing the weakest member of the herd, the Joker singled him out immediately.

"Good morning, starshine! Rough night?" Eddie shrugged, lowered his head, and kept walking, hoping the freaky clown would go away. "You're moving like you've just had a run-in with old Batsy. Has he been here? Are you hiding bruises?" He lifted the tail of Eddie's shirt before Eddie could move away. "Ohh…somebody needs a sandwich!" He poked Eddie in the ribs.

"Hands off the merchandise, Joker." A billy club came down between them, and the guard shoved Eddie through the bathroom door. "You know the routine. Strip."

Edging away from the Joker, Eddie started to take off his uniform. He could feel the Joker's green eyes boring into his back. Not good. He didn't see the new guy today. Hospital, most likely. Didn't really matter. Out of sight was out of mind, meaning they would be looking for a new target.

"What's with the scratches, Eddikins?" Joker asked when he took off his shirt. "All over your back. You've been seeing someone on the sly, haven't you? You old rascal! So, who's the new girlfriend?" Eddie didn't answer. "Boyfriend?"

"That's really none of your business." The Joker grinned.

"Ooh, did I hit a nerve? Oh, well. If you don't want to talk…" He snapped his fingers, and a couple of loyal Joker goons came forward to grab his arms. Not at all unexpected, of course, but still, he tensed. Their fingers dug into his forearms. There would be bruises later. Suddenly, all the other inmates were busy with their personal hygiene.

"What do you want us to do with him, boss?"

"Oh, the usual." Chuckling, they dragged Eddie toward an empty shower stall. "Wait! Get his pants first, you idiots. You can't take a shower with your pants on."

"New guy's right—this isn't funny," Eddie protested as they took his pants.

"That's just because you're lacking in the humor department." The Joker cackled.

The two guys held him under the water while the Joker moved into the opposite stall and started washing his moss-green hair.

"Come on, Joker. I know you're king of the hill around here. You don't have to remind me."

"I know, darling, but I want to hear you say it. Or, better yet, sing it."

Sing it?

"You heard the boss. Start singing."

"I don't sing," Eddie said with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances.

"Suit yourself," the Joker replied. "Boys, kill him."

"Boss?" one said hesitantly. The other didn't waste time on suicidal questions. He threw Eddie to the floor. The guy's foot came down on his throat, pinning him under the shower's spray.

He knew it was useless to try to push the guy's foot off him, but that didn't stop him from trying. The only result was that his weight came down harder. Eddie gasped for air, and inhaled nothing but water.

Hell. They wouldn't actually kill him…would they? Not here. Not with the guards right outside.

Not now…

"How's about that song, boy?"

He tried to answer, he really did, but his voice didn't seem to be working. The attempt seemed to be enough. The guy let him up. Eddie rolled away from the water, coughing.

"We're running out of time, Eduardo. Do I get my little song and dance, or do you go back under the water?"

"I'm s-singing in the rain, just singing in the rain," he managed.

"More feeling." Eddie tried to sing louder.

"What a glorious feeling, I'm happy again." Ripples of laughter spread through the other inmates.

"More soul," the Joker insisted.

"Let the stormy clouds chase everyone from the place." His voice trembled. How humiliating. "Come on with the rain, there's a smile on my face," he belted. The door opened.

"What's going on in there?"

"Nothing, warden. Just good spirits all around," the Joker said merrily.

"Be sure it stays that way."

_No! Help me, you stupid bastard!_

The door closed. Eddie felt like crying.

"Not bad, Eddikins, but next time throw in a little tap dancing or something. What kind of showman just lies there on the floor while he sings?"

The water shut off. A kick to the stomach left him curled up in a ball on the floor until all the others were gone and the guards came in and dragged him to his feet.

Not the worst shower he'd ever had.

--


	5. She's a spicy one

Breakfast today vaguely resembled oatmeal. Eddie sat with the Mad Hatter again, out of necessity more than loyalty, and ate his breakfast, also out of necessity.

The others were still giving him those murderous looks, interspersed with some amusement and contempt, and one or two looks of pity.

This day was not going to be one of his best.

--

"Good morning, Mr. Nygma. How are you feeling today?" Dr. Chen said formally when the guards escorted him into her office. The minute they had the door closed, she was kissing him. "I missed you."

"You're as crazy as the rest of us."

"Yes, I know." She pulled back to take a look at him. "But you're upset. What's the matter, Eddie? Sit down and tell me all about it."

To his surprise, he found himself speaking to her as she ran her fingers through his hair, telling her everything, talking to her as she had never talked to any of his doctors, or anyone else, in his life. After a few minutes, she put her arms around him and held him while he talked. She didn't laugh at his humiliation. She didn't look at him with scorn when he told her how the others had intimidated him. Nothing he said bothered her. She just held him, and listened.

"Oh, sweetheart, oh, my dear," she said, stroking his hair. "I don't know how much I can do to help you, but I'll do whatever I can."

"Help me?" he repeated blankly. "You don't even know me."

"Maybe not, but I know I like you. Eddie, do you think you're just my personal blow-up doll? No. You really mean something to me. I want to keep you safe." She kissed him. "And happy. Hey, Eddie, we have twenty minutes left in this session. Are you up for it?"

Today she was uncommonly gentle. He left her feeling soothed and satisfied and completely bewildered.

Woman, after all, was the one riddle no man could ever solve.

--

He spent reading time with a borrowed copy of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy,_ and was immediately offended at being compared to Zaphod…although he had to admit, the character had a certain flair that he could admire, and the book itself was quite interesting.

After library time was gym time, which was far less amusing. Healthy minds in healthy bodies; Hitler, Aristotle, and the Arkham doctors all agreed.

Since he wasn't interested in taking another shower, Eddie sat on the sidelines, watching what was surely the most bizarre game of volleyball ever played. Only in Arkham…

"This ain't nap time, Riddler," said a female voice. He felt a boot nudge his side and looked up to see one of the lady guards, the one they called Large Marge, glaring down at him. "You gonna play, or am I going to have to _make_ you play?"

"Not today, coach. I've got cramps."

He woke up an hour later in the hospital annex with a splitting headache. Well, a concussion was always a good way to break up the monotony. Although he would have preferred another session with Dr. Chen.

--

When they took him back to his cell that night, he was surprised to find Crane on the top bunk, reading a book.

"I thought you had one more day," Eddie said. Crane had that twitchy look they all got after a little time in the hole, but he seemed to be coping. There would be no night terrors, anyway.

"I got time off for good behavior." Crane looked up from his book. "What happened to you?" Eddie put a hand to the bandage that wound around his head.

"I got a little taste of Large Marge's feminine wiles." He fell into his bunk, sighing. "I think I'm in love." Crane leaned over the edge of the bed to look down at him.

"With Marge?"

"No. Allison."

"Your psychiatrist? Just how much head trauma have you suffered?" Eddie smiled.

"Yes, I know how it looks. But she's different. She's…perfect."

"She's one of _them_, Nygma."

"Maybe, but who do you think pulled you out of solitary?"

"You asked her to?" Eddie shrugged. He hadn't, really, but he had certainly let her know how much easier his life would be if he didn't have to fly solo.

Crane grunted and went back to his book. Eddie recognized it as a form of gratitude, and smiled. Things were looking up.

--

Eddie walked down the hall to the showers, staying close to Crane. He could still feel the Joker's eyes on him, but he knew that whatever happened to him today wouldn't be half as bad as yesterday.

"Jon! Ed! How ya doing, boys?" the Joker said cheerily, putting a friendly arm around each of them.

"What do you want," Eddie demanded. The Joker laughed.

"Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You weren't nearly this brave yesterday. You don't actually believe there's safety in numbers, do you?" Eddie cringed. "Aw, are you still mad about the song and dance thing? Well, don't worry. You can rest your vocal chords today. I just thought you might like to know why."

"All right. Why?"

"Why don't you ask that doctor of yours. She's a spicy one." The Joker let them go and did a little jig down the hall.

"Freak," Crane muttered. Eddie smiled.

"I told you. She's perfect."


	6. Because someone should

Breakfast was as bad as ever, this time vaguely resembling eggs and toast. Eddie sat with Crane and Tetch and wasn't bothered by anyone else. He always felt like a third wheel with the two of them, lacking their scientific backgrounds, but he could live with that. At least they accepted him as part of the group.

There were three tiers of society in Arkham, and Eddie knew full well that theirs was on the bottom. The intelligent but physically inferior chimpanzees were dominated by gorillas like Killer Croc, who were in turn led by orangutans like the Joker. Eddie stifled a laugh at the thought. It was something he would have to share with Crane later, when there were fewer listening ears.

There was one social group lower than the chimps, he realized, glancing over at the table where the Ventriloquist and New Guy were sitting. They were the kind of guys with no power at all in Arkham, although they might have had it on the outside. No one had even bothered learning New Guy's name, he was so clearly marked for death.

He imagined the Ventriloquist screaming, "Get your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape!" Eddie smiled, then frowned. Was it possible that the human slaves would change Arkham's social structure? Or, better yet, blow it up?

No, his Planet of the Inmates theory didn't go that far.

--

He heard her phone ringing as the guards escorted him to Dr. Chen's office.

"Babu! Ne hao?" He came through her office door and saw her perched on the edge of her desk, laughing. She put her hand over the receiver. "I'll be right with you." Eddie sat down, waiting for the guards to leave. "I'm at work right now. Can I call you back later? No, really, I have a patient here right now. My father," she whispered to Eddie. "Yes…yes…I'll tell him you said hi. I love you." She hung up quickly. "Well. Mr. Nygma. How are we feeling today?"

"Better than yesterday," he said as she walked over to close the door.

"So everything's coming together?" She leaned over to kiss him tenderly.

"What did you do to the Joker?"

She laughed.

"Jealous?" He looked up into her warm brown eyes, dreading what he might see. "You are! That's so cute." She put her arms around him. "Don't worry, Eddie. I'm not into clowns." She started unbuttoning his shirt. "I just offered to bring in a few things from the outside."

"Couldn't you get fired for this?"

"Not if you don't tell on me."

They made love, and afterwards lay in each other's arms on the rug. Eddie traced the shape of her naked body with his hand.

"You're so beautiful," he said wonderingly.

"Hmm." She buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent.

"Allison?"

"Yes, Eddie?"

"Why me?"

She squeezed him tightly.

"You're so small and vulnerable under that cocky exterior. You make me want to hold you." She snuggled with him. "I've read your files. I know what your childhood was like. It makes me want to love you…because someone should." She smiled, embarrassed. "Would you like a cookie?"

"A cookie?"

She disentangled herself and stood up. He shivered in the sudden cold.

"I baked cookies. Peanut butter." She put on her underwear. Black lace, far less sensible than her shoes. He dressed quickly, watching her.

Her navy blue skirt hugged the curve of her hips. She rolled her pantyhose slowly up her well-formed runner's legs like a reverse strip tease, and he wanted her again. Her body was muscular—athletic. It was a shame to cover it up with a frumpy suit—or any clothes at all, he thought as she buttoned up her shirt, which was just tight enough to catch his attention.

"You're a goddess, you know." She smiled sweetly.

"How kind of you to notice. You deserve two cookies." She opened the bottom drawer of her desk and took out a saran-wrapped plate of sugary goodness. Eddie took one and nearly imploded, tasting his first real food in months. Allison smiled fondly. "I've seen the slop they feed you here. Take as many as you want. I don't know about you, but I'm always ravenous after a good workout."

"So that's what I am to you? A Nordic Trak?"

"Silly man, do you really need this constant reassurance?" She gave him another cookie. "All right, fine. You're the most fascinating man I've ever met. You're gorgeous. You're so adorably insecure, you just make me want to hug you all the time. You're brilliant and wonderful. You deserve to be noticed and admired and, yes, loved. And you're the best I've ever had. Shall I go on?"

He laughed nervously.

"Oh, sure."

"Really," she said seriously, putting her arms around him. "You're greater than you think you are. And I don't mean the face you show to the world, great as the Riddler may be. The real you, the man inside, is so much more than anyone knows, including you, yourself. I love that man, Eddie. I love you."

--

"What are you so happy about?" Crane said irritably when Eddie sat down across from him with his lunch of mystery meat.

"Today's session was _very_ productive. Hello, Jervis! Would you like some tea?" He slipped the Mad Hatter a peanut butter cookie. Crane raised an eyebrow, but accepted the cookie Eddie offered him.

"And what, exactly, have you two been working on?" Eddie grinned.

"Releasing the man inside." That got him their undivided attention. "We'll be starting group therapy next week. Allison thinks she can help out all of us, not just me. Isn't she the greatest?"

"Does she expect…"

"No, of course not. Group therapy isn't like _private_ sessions. It's perfectly legitimate. You know, they think it would be good for some of us to form relationships not based on criminal partnerships."

'I'm surprised she got clearance. Everyone knows group therapy has never been effective at Arkham."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Tetch muttered.

"They're paying her. They might as well get their money's worth," Eddie said with a shrug. Crane nodded thoughtfully.

"And how many of us are to be involved in this little experiment?"

"Seven. The three of us, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, the new guy, and Mr. Freeze."

"That's an odd mix," Crane said. Eddie shrugged.

"Allison respects the mind's power. She chose all the most intelligent patients for her sessions. After all, there's not much she could learn from the likes of Killer Croc, is there?"

"Why choose David?" Tetch wondered.

"Who?"

"The new guy."

"Oh, is that his name? Well, he's the red herring—just a regular guy in a group of criminal masterminds. You know, to distract them from the group's true purpose."

"Which is?"

"A white picket fence and 2.5 kids. Come on, what do you think?"


	7. Is she a screamer?

Seven days later, Edward Nygma was as happy as he had ever been, inside Arkham or out of it. It wasn't just the daily sex hour—although that was a big part of it—or the special favors that got him ignored by his enemies and bought the loyalty of a few friends.

It was _her_. Beautiful, devastatingly intelligent—everything he had been saving himself up for. He smiled. And she had wonderful taste books. And in men, of course.

He had been skeptical at first, but he could no longer doubt her when she told him she loved him. And although he had been joking when he'd spoken of it to the Scarecrow, he was beginning to believe that he truly loved her back.

The feeling was liberating, more exhilarating than his greatest caper, and more terrifying than Batman on a bad day.

He loved her.

"What will we do when we leave here?" he asked as he held her in his arms. She kissed him.

"You're going to steal hordes of priceless treasures, steal them brilliantly, and thwart Batman at every turn."

"Of course, but what are _we_ going to do? Where will you be?"

"With you, silly. I'll be right by your side…if you want me there."

"Of course." Their lips met. "I'll buy you a hat." Allison chuckled.

"Is that your way of proposing?"

"If the shoe fits," Eddie said. Allison snuggled closer.

"A hat, shoes…do I get a mask, too?"

"I would hate to cover up your face with anything."

"Well, I think yours makes you look dashing." She traced around his eyes with her fingertips.

"Dashing?"

"Yes, you're my sexy pirate." She sat up. "The session is almost over. I hope you've found it beneficial, Mr. Nygma."

"Very beneficial, Dr. Chen."

She helped him to his feet.

"I'll see you in group therapy in an hour. And, Eddie, I'll miss you."

--

"There's only one thing I want to know before we begin this therapy," Crane said. "Is she a screamer?" Eddie glared at him from across the table.

"No, Dr. Crane, she is not a screamer."

"Pity. There's nothing quite like the sound of a woman screaming as her mind is torn apart." Eddie stabbed his mashed potatoes with his spork.

"Don't talk about her that way."

"You _are_ in love," Crane said. "That's disgusting."

"Maybe someday a magnificent woman will fall head-over-heels for you, too, Crane." He giggled. "I suppose anything's possible if you just believe."

The look in Crane's eyes was murderous. Eddie decided to shut up, and made a mental note not to hang around next time the Scarecrow got his hands on his fear gas.

"Crane, Nygma, Tetch, Phillips, Isley, and Quinzel, report to the lounge for group therapy."

They all looked at each other.

"Well, shall we?"

--

Harley Quinn, the intolerably cheerful former psychiatrist, and Poison Ivy, the beautiful botanical biochemist, were probably the only real friends at Arkham. They sat down next to each other, chatting about some doctor named Herbert and completely ignoring everyone else. Crane sat next to Harley, staring at each of the other patients in turn, taking their measure. Next to him was Dr. Chen's empty chair, and on the other side, Eddie, feeling quite smug. On his right was Jervis Tetch, who was staring rather fixedly at Harley. Next to Tetch was the New Guy, looking at the rest of them with a mixture of awe and terror. And in the last chair, between the New Guy and Poison Ivy, was Victor Fries, cold and aloof in his protective suit.

They really were an odd group. Despite being the most intelligent and relatively-stable of the Arkham inmates, most of them never would have had any contact with each other in the outside world, either in their former civilian lives or their new lives of crime. Eddie didn't even like any of them very much, except perhaps for Crane, and sometimes Tetch. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about them, but Allison insisted on calling it friendship and had rewarded him with chocolate for forming emotional attachments. And then she had rewarded him in other ways…

She caught his attention almost before she entered the room, followed by the two armed guards who would be supervising the group sessions. (After all, they couldn't risk her losing control of multiple patients.)

"Good morning," she said. None of them responded, although Eddie did smile slightly, just for her. The guards stationed themselves by the door. "My name is Dr. Allison Chen. Some of you know me already." She smiled back at Eddie, and he felt himself go hot under the collar.

"You cut our rec time short," Harley pouted.

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't know your schedule then." Allison smiled winningly. "No hard feelings, I hope." Harley grumbled something. "Well…why don't we go around the room and introduce ourselves."

"Dr. Chen, _we_ already know each other," Poison Ivy drawled. "And if I may state the obvious, you are not one of us."

"So you consider yourselves a group when confronted with a symbol of the opposition. Do you consider me a threat?" Ivy's eyes narrowed. "That's okay, I know you do. I'm not much of a threat to you individually, but I threaten the group dynamic. But, you know, I only want to help you."

"That's what they all say," said Harley.

"Yes, that's what we all say. That's what you said to your favorite patient. Turned out to be true, didn't it?"

"Oh," said Harley. Allison put a finger to her lips, turning so the guards couldn't see, and smiled.

"I do want to help you. But if I'm going to help you, I'm going to need you to help me."

"How?"

"Just do what you always do with the doctors here. Play along."

--

"I understand your concerns," Allison said to her boss later that evening. "I know it looks a little suspicious, me being all Friendy Frienderson and telling them to 'just play along,' but I have to gain their trust before they'll open up to me. You know they see the world as divided into Us and Them, and Them can either be a mass of sheeplike victims, or a series of jailers existing only to keep them down. I want them to view me as part of the Us."

"Do you think that's wise, Dr. Chen? We want these people to rejoin society, not to consider themselves a society of their own."

"And they will. But if I'm going to change their way of thinking, I'm going to do it from the inside out." She thought of her little Riddler, and smiled to herself. "I'm sure you've read my earlier reports. You know I've had good results so far." Cute little Eddie. So ironically, adorably clueless. So perfect. "You're welcome to look at the materials we used today. We did some fingerpainting. Sort of a childhood regression type thing." And when he looked at the paintings, all he would see would be black birds, green question marks, purple hats, silver moons, blue snowflakes, yellow flowers, and a bright red clown smile.

Nothing suspicious there. Certainly no hidden escape plans. She smothered a grin. Nothing suspicious at all.


	8. You are crazy

"So, _now_ what do you think of her?" Eddie asked with more than a hint of smugness.

"She's quite an actress," Crane admitted. "I know I always found that skill to be integral to the job."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, only half listening.

"What do you think it means, _Riddler_?"

"Hmm?" He studied the patterns of the rusty springs above him with a smile on his face. Those springs creaked as Crane leaned over to look down at him.

"Edward, you aren't thinking clearly at all. You claim to be an evil genius, so why not try acting like one? Think for a minute! You can't fall in love with your psychiatrist!"

"Why not? The Joker did."

"No, he lied to Harley and manipulated her into falling in love with him. When one party is a skilled actor, infatuation doesn't necessarily run both ways."

"You sound so concerned. Are you actually being protective?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Crane snapped. "If you go and do something stupid with this woman, it's going to have repercussions for all of us." A slow, lazy grin spread over Eddie's face.

"Does that mean you don't want to be my best man?"

"_What_?" Eddie giggled a little at his cellmate's dumbfounded expression.

"Best man. It's like the maid of honor, but without the dress." Crane's face disappeared as he lay back on the bed.

"You are crazy," he said. "And that's my professional opinion."

Eddie just grinned.

_Crazy in love._


	9. And this is something new?

"They're going to be very angry at us, you know," Eddie said

"And this is something new?"

He would have continued voicing his objection, but she found a much better use for his lips.

* * *

Author's note: apologies for both the extremely long delay between postings, and the extremely short chapter. More soon, I swear. 


	10. No place for a rookie

Arkham security was no place for a rookie. But everyone had to start somewhere, and Don Jones, hired muscle, had been promised that if anything went seriously wrong, at least he wouldn't have to handle it alone.

When the security system went haywire, an entire team was dispatched to investigate.

They found a number of empty cells, and seven missing prisoners.

This was not going to be a good day.

They followed the inmates' path to the main exit, following a line of disabled guards and orderlies.

At the door they met Harley Quinn, throwing a fit and screaming about going back for Mistah J. It took three guards to subdue her. The remaining three pressed on.

If they had known, they would have just left her unconscious and handcuffed to the door. But Jones was only beginning to suspect.

Before they managed to cross the grounds, a wall of briars sprang up in front of them like something out of sleeping beauty. And their wicked witch, Poison Ivy, was making it damn clear that she didn't intend to leave Harley in the castle.

Jones wasn't a typical musclebound thug. He may have been particularly well suited to his physically demanding career, but there was a functioning brain somewhere underneath his Kevlar helmet. He put two and two together, and realized that the ringleader of this little group was using the others to play for time, probably manipulating them without their knowledge.

He left his teammates to deal with Ivy and made his way past her, unnoticed.

His guess was confirmed when he came upon Mr. Freeze struggling against a "malfunctioning" suit. Those suits that were the only thing that could protect him from being roasted alive by the warm spring air also happened to be so heavy that, if he lost power, he could barely move. Walking was impossible.

He was already looking ill. If he didn't get into a subzero environment soon, he was a dead man. Jones knew he _should _go after the other escapee and do his best to bring them in. His superiors would expect no less.

Reluctantly, he radioed for backup and started to drag the melting popsicle toward the building.

He just hoped there was someone left to respond.


	11. Oh, stop sulking

When Freeze's suit shut down for no apparent reason, Crane suspected. He was too sharp to be an ordinary crazy.

He aid nothing, but it was obvious that he understood Allison's plan.

Eddie found he couldn't look him in the eyes when it came time to suddenly stop and tuck one of the Mad Hatter's chips behind his ear.

Crane seemed taken by surprise, for that split second before his expression went blank. Maybe he had expected the betrayal to come from Allison, but she was busy with Jervis.

But…she was _supposed_ to be busy with the New Guy. Why wasn't she disposing of him?

At that moment, Eddie felt sick, realizing for the first time that he could have been played just as much as the rest of them.

"Allison?"

She gave the Scarecrow and the Hatter a push toward the front gate, where they would cause a suitable distraction.

"Is now the best time?"

He stared at her. The man he had been referring to as New Guy started to smirk.

"He's finally figured it out. Shall I take care of him?"

"No," Allison said sharply. Eddie felt a sort of jolt, as if he'd been standing in an elevator and the cables had suddenly snapped.

"It was all a lie." For once, he took what could have been a question and made it a flat statement of fact.

"Not a lie," she said with a helpless shrug. "A job. Family comes first. It has to."

"Don't waste your time explaining—"

"Didi, shut up," Allison snapped. "You don't get to call the shots. If you hadn't been _stupid_ enough to get yourself captured, none of this would have been necessary. They weren't even going to send me, but they were afraid you would go right _on_ being stupid and blow our cover. How you ever made it into the League of Shadows, I don't know, but thanks to you, neither one of us will ever be assigned anywhere near the States again. Thank you so much, little brother."

By this time, Eddie was starting to back away. The League of Shadows? He was definitely in over his head.

And Allison wasn't nearly stupid enough to let him hear so much vital information by accident. Was there something she was trying to tell him? Or did she simply not care what he heard? Assassins did most assuredly live by the words, "dead men tell no tales."

Oh, God, they were going to kill him, weren't they?

"They're going to catch us if we stand around here much longer."

"I told you to shut up." She caught Eddie's arm, quicker than thought, and pulled him toward her. "Besides, they're going to be occupied, I think."

The feeling of the knife sliding into him was so sudden and shocking, he could hardly fathom it. He had been stabbed enough times before, both shallow and deep, with sharp knives and dull, long and short, serrated and smooth, single-edged, double-edged—it was amazing how many times a man could be stabbed and live to tell the tale. He could remember the pain of each and every knife wound he had ever received, most of them superficial injuries leaving behind no evidence but the nasty scars.

This one left them all behind.

--

"You should have made it quick."

The woman known as Allison Chen—an identity that would be permanently discarded by the time she reached her destination of the League compound—gave her partner a disdainful glare.

"Now you're questioning my methods? If he had been dead when they found him, there would have been nothing to delay them from coming after _us_. Remember?"

"But, if he survives?"

"What if he does?"

"He knows too much."

"He knows _nothing_. Besides, what makes you think he'll live? Have you ever known _me_ to make a mistake of that magnitude?"

"No," he admitted, albeit reluctantly. "You don't make mistakes. You're better than human, right?"

"Oh, stop _sulking_," she snapped. "If you don't straighten up, you know what's going to happen.." She glanced at him again, and was irritated to find that he was _pouting_.

Unless he redeemed himself quickly, little brother was going to be her next target, and he _knew_ she never missed. Once she got a knife in her hand, it would take a miracle for her target to escape, even if that target had been trained since birth by the League…by _her_.

And he knew she would never defy orders from the top, not even for the foster brother she had put so much effort into training.

There was a reason why her name within the League was a word that meant "heartless."


	12. An epilogue fit for the tabloids

The nurse who had talked to the tabloid reporters hadn't been able to give them much genuine, factual information, not that it really mattered to them. The story concerned the Riddler, which meant front page splash headlines, which meant sales, and thus profits, would be up that weekend.

"Stabbed in the chest" made for good reading, as did "critical condition." And this story had a romance angle that should spice things up even more.

Unfortunately, the very uncertainty of his survival, which made for such an exciting cliffhanger on Friday, resulted in panic on Saturday when they could get no more solid information—or, indeed, even a rumor—from inside Arkham's walls. For once in the entire history of that godforsaken place, _nothing_ was coming out.

So they did what tabloids always do in times of trouble.

They went to press.

_The Gotham Insider_ went for visuals, filling the front page with happy-looking pictures (only five or six years old) under the headline, RIDDLER MAKES FULL RECOVERY ("It's A Miracle!")

Their biggest rival, _The Criminal Mind_, had fewer photographs to back up their story, but they chose a font that really popped to proclaim, RIDDLER DIES OF BROKEN HEART.

One was blindly optimistic in a way that would surely appeal to some readers, and had pretty pictures. The other was appealingly cynical, yet romantic, and made use of some moderately clever wordplay.

Someone was going to look foolish when the truth came out, but by that time, the story would have slipped from the public's consciousness.

And so, as it happened, a certain nameless woman furtively scanning headlines for a news item that could have meant her death, had it been widely known she was interested, wouldn't know for sure what had really happened until long after she stepped off the docks at Gotham Harbor, returning to a promising career on the other side of the world, never to return.

And she excelled, tied to no one and thought of only as Heartless. Never again would anyone think fondly of the woman named Allison.

And so, to make use of a well worn cliche, this was

THE END


End file.
